Tuesday, August 7, 2007 at 1:01am
Culture-shocked, and learning to like it
Column: Life at First Sight
Whether we travel or not, I think everyone eventually experiences some form of culture shock.
It begins with a honeymoon quality in which things are pleasantly new and different, like the time my friend's children, born in Holland, wondered what American fire hydrants were.
The challenge looms when we discover that the familiar framework on which we depend unthinkingly each day is suddenly gone. In its place is a foreign landscape for which we have no map, or rules. Or, the rules may contradict the way we think things should be.
My friend later visited her son, the youngest of those kids who hadn't seen fire hydrants, when he was living as a young adult in Minsk, the capital of Belarus. She was shocked when his girlfriend described how, following her art teacher's suggestion, she had visited a new hotel's dig site and found a human skull that she brought out to sketch before reburying it later.
"What was she doing? That is awful" was my friend's first thought. Fortunately, they talked about it. A seasoned world traveler, she's encountered culture shock too often to stop at her first morally outraged reaction.
The young artist had replied, "But our city is built on blood and bones" — an eloquent summary of the horrific adversity that is the Soviet Union's legacy.
"When I heard that, I remembered I've no right to judge someone whose life I don't live," my friend said. Then she described how the three of them had gone out to the bus stop where, when the sun dropped low, the girl had moved to stand in front of my friend.
"She'd automatically shielded me from the sun," my friend recalled. "I'd have missed such subtle kindness if I'd been caught up in judging her behavior."
Being in another culture simply accelerates our opportunity to experience those periodic cycles of upheaval that can teach us the most.
I experienced that in an unexpected way when our two grown children were home in our house for the first time in three years. When I learned that our daughter would return home from China, I knew that she was in for some culture shock. I also knew it was going to be a time of adjustment for all of us.
I relished the early honeymoon stage when the four of us enjoyed quality time together.
Then I collided with what inevitably develops when people come together with their acquired habits — and expectations.
"What's wrong with the dryer?" I asked upon discovering the bathroom festooned with wet clothes one morning.
Our daughter, who has done laundry without a dryer for the past three years, informed me she has absolutely no intention of submitting clothes purchased with her own money to an environmentally unfriendly machine that invariably shrinks and wears them out faster.
I took a breath, realizing that this is as reasonable a view to her as any I might have. Her brother strung a clothesline outside and we began saving on electricity, too.
I'm glad I stepped back and made time to talk rather than simply react to her behavior. Mutual understanding can be a great stress-reducer. Plus, this same culturally influenced bent of hers is also what prompts her thoughtful calls from the store on her way home to see whether we need anything.
Culture shock often interrupts for us those things we just do and haven't spent much time thinking about — yet. Many of my longtime behaviors have been reflexive ones based on what I thought I knew.
Scriptures from the Baha'i Faith state that "The differences in manners, in customs, in habits, in thoughts, opinions and in temperaments is the cause of the adornment of the world of mankind." Abdu'l-Baha, son of the Founder of the Faith, goes on to explain: "Consider the flowers of the rose garden. Although they are of different kinds, various colors and diverse forms and appearances, yet as they drink from one water, are swayed by one breeze and grow by the warmth and light of one sun, this variation and this difference cause each to enhance the beauty and splendor of the others."
I never expected to encounter culture shock from my own children. But through these experiences, I've come to appreciate the beauty and splendor of this diverse planet we all call home.
— — —
Phyllis Edgerly Ring, mother of two, is a writer and editor. Her current book project addresses how adults can recognize and nurture children's spiritual nature. She is a former program director at Green Acre Baha'i School in Eliot, Maine, and has been a member of the Baha'i Faith for more than 30 years. Email her at {email columns@bahai.us}columns@bahai.us{/email}. See the website of the Baha'is of the United States for more information. © Copyright 2007 by Phyllis Edgerly Ring.
It begins with a honeymoon quality in which things are pleasantly new and different, like the time my friend's children, born in Holland, wondered what American fire hydrants were.
The challenge looms when we discover that the familiar framework on which we depend unthinkingly each day is suddenly gone. In its place is a foreign landscape for which we have no map, or rules. Or, the rules may contradict the way we think things should be.
My friend later visited her son, the youngest of those kids who hadn't seen fire hydrants, when he was living as a young adult in Minsk, the capital of Belarus. She was shocked when his girlfriend described how, following her art teacher's suggestion, she had visited a new hotel's dig site and found a human skull that she brought out to sketch before reburying it later.
"What was she doing? That is awful" was my friend's first thought. Fortunately, they talked about it. A seasoned world traveler, she's encountered culture shock too often to stop at her first morally outraged reaction.
The young artist had replied, "But our city is built on blood and bones" — an eloquent summary of the horrific adversity that is the Soviet Union's legacy.
"When I heard that, I remembered I've no right to judge someone whose life I don't live," my friend said. Then she described how the three of them had gone out to the bus stop where, when the sun dropped low, the girl had moved to stand in front of my friend.
"She'd automatically shielded me from the sun," my friend recalled. "I'd have missed such subtle kindness if I'd been caught up in judging her behavior."
Being in another culture simply accelerates our opportunity to experience those periodic cycles of upheaval that can teach us the most.
I experienced that in an unexpected way when our two grown children were home in our house for the first time in three years. When I learned that our daughter would return home from China, I knew that she was in for some culture shock. I also knew it was going to be a time of adjustment for all of us.
I relished the early honeymoon stage when the four of us enjoyed quality time together.
Then I collided with what inevitably develops when people come together with their acquired habits — and expectations.
"What's wrong with the dryer?" I asked upon discovering the bathroom festooned with wet clothes one morning.
Our daughter, who has done laundry without a dryer for the past three years, informed me she has absolutely no intention of submitting clothes purchased with her own money to an environmentally unfriendly machine that invariably shrinks and wears them out faster.
I took a breath, realizing that this is as reasonable a view to her as any I might have. Her brother strung a clothesline outside and we began saving on electricity, too.
I'm glad I stepped back and made time to talk rather than simply react to her behavior. Mutual understanding can be a great stress-reducer. Plus, this same culturally influenced bent of hers is also what prompts her thoughtful calls from the store on her way home to see whether we need anything.
Culture shock often interrupts for us those things we just do and haven't spent much time thinking about — yet. Many of my longtime behaviors have been reflexive ones based on what I thought I knew.
Scriptures from the Baha'i Faith state that "The differences in manners, in customs, in habits, in thoughts, opinions and in temperaments is the cause of the adornment of the world of mankind." Abdu'l-Baha, son of the Founder of the Faith, goes on to explain: "Consider the flowers of the rose garden. Although they are of different kinds, various colors and diverse forms and appearances, yet as they drink from one water, are swayed by one breeze and grow by the warmth and light of one sun, this variation and this difference cause each to enhance the beauty and splendor of the others."
I never expected to encounter culture shock from my own children. But through these experiences, I've come to appreciate the beauty and splendor of this diverse planet we all call home.
— — —
Phyllis Edgerly Ring, mother of two, is a writer and editor. Her current book project addresses how adults can recognize and nurture children's spiritual nature. She is a former program director at Green Acre Baha'i School in Eliot, Maine, and has been a member of the Baha'i Faith for more than 30 years. Email her at {email columns@bahai.us}columns@bahai.us{/email}. See the website of the Baha'is of the United States for more information. © Copyright 2007 by Phyllis Edgerly Ring.